Re: Losing a Mom

Originally Posted by Yardgnome;2921966;

Dags, It's been 20 years since my dad died, and like everyone else, I think about him all the time. My dad died when I was young, 10 years old, I'm at the point now where I've lived more of my life without him then with him. I still miss him and remember the times we had together. Especially as I get older, and so much changes in my life, I always wonder what he would think about everything I'm doing. It's tough and the memories will help make it bearable but you will always miss him.

Daddy has been gone 12 years and I find that to be one of the toughest to deal with....what would he think about the things I have done, both good and bad, and most importantly (to me) would he think I was doing a good job of raising my son...you know deep in your heart that he would think you were doing a good job but sometimes I would give anything just to hear him say I was doing good or that my son was going to be a good man because of how I raised him....ok, now I'm crying......

Re: Losing a Mom

Dags,
Hang in there. My dad will be gone 10 years this summer and just yesterday, I had a man in a tour group that reminded me so much of my dad, I was almost speechless (not a good thing when giving a tour). But then this man did something that was so similar to something my dad would have done and it got me laughing which again is similar to what my dad would have done and the sad moment was infused with happiness. I think now after so many years that at times I do like to see someone that reminds me of my dad because for the most part, it will bring back a happy memory. It was hard the first couple years, but now, I think that I do have more wistful smiles than wanting to bolt for the nearest bathroom to cry. Just hang in there and know that your dad probably knows what a good job you are doing and what a fine man your son has turned out to be. And remember its because of your dad that you've done a good job and your son has become a wonderful guy, because your dad taught YOU so well. He's still with you, inside of you and your son. I know that sounds like a cliche too, but I see my parents in my child a lot and especially my mom, so I like to believe that a part of them lives on in my daughter.

Re: Losing a Mom

Dagwood, my thoughts are with you. I know what you are feeling. I found myself staring at ladies about my Mom's age when she passed away, and it just ripped me up. Especially when I saw them with their daughters. It is such a feeling of despair. It will always be that way, that wistful longing and the desperate sadness.

But I can say that now I almost welcome the sight of a woman in whom I see my Mom. It still makes me sad, but I get more of a warm feeling, along with feelings of thankfulness for having had such a wonderful mother. It was in remembering my brother that I was better able to cope with seeing "shadows" of my Mom. He passed away at age 35, and he is forever 35 in the mind's eye of all who loved him. It made me even sadder, actually, to think of those whose parent or parents are "forever young" in their mind and heart. I'm thankful to be able to recognize my Mom in someone who has lived a long life, and, most of all, I'm so very happy for my Mom, that she lived a long and happy life. I feel really sad for those who catch a glimpse of their parent in someone years, even decades, younger.
My heart goes out to you, dagwood. There are more "shadows" ahead, and each time, please remember there are many arms here to catch you and to support you.

Re: Losing a Mom

Wow. I can't believe I've been a member for such a long time and never saw this thread. I hope you don't mind if I join in with my story about my mom and dad.

My mom died of cancer almost 20 years ago. She was sick for 7 weeks, and poof she was gone. She would have died sooner, but my father took another life insurance policy out on her so that we could survive after she left us. She had the date imprinted in her memory and died two days after that. I am still amazed at her sacrifices for us. I went to Six Flags on her last lucid day. I didn't know things were so bad, and she insisted that I go off with my friends for one fun day during a very sad summer. When I returned, she slipped into a coma. I always regretted that I wasn't with her that day. I never got to say goodbye. She got to spend precious time with my brother, sister, and father, but I missed out on it. To this day that makes me cry.

We barely survived the first few years. My father was lost without her. She had taken care of everything as far as the kids and house were concerned. That was when we learned how human my dad was. He just couldn't hold it together. He eventually remarried because he felt that would bring us all back together. Instead it made things much worse.

They both retired and moved hundreds of miles away. We never really got to see him, and he missed seeing his grandchildren grow. He died two years ago. I took a leave of absence from work to take care of him. He was hospitalized, but he really needed someone with him 24/7. His wife didn't like me so I was not allowed to stay in his house. I lived at a hotel for six weeks. My job didn't pay me so I almost lost everything. I don't think I have ever hit such a low point before.

But the time I spent with my dad was such a gift to me. All tension and hostility disappeared as we sat together day after day. I usually spent at least 12 hours sitting with him in his hospital room. When I first got there each day he didn't allow me to talk. You might find that strange, but it made total sense to me. My stepmother stopped in for an hour before I got there. She talked incessantly and drove him crazy. I had to wait awhile until he finally opened his eyes and smiled at me. We talked, I read to him, we prayed, and we kept each other company.

My most favorite memory happened very early one morning. I got a call from the hospital at 1:30 am that he had awakened and was scared to be alone. I was asked to come sit with him.

When I got there I turned the bedside chair so I was facing him. I was close enough to hold his hand. We sat for a long while without saying anything. Then we started to reminisce. He brought up a memory, and then I did. Finally we got to my favorite one. When I was about six, he tried to teach us a tongue-twister of a song. "Mares Eat Oats..." The words were really hard for me to learn, but I was determined. I made him sing it to me night after night until I got it right. In the stillnes of the hospital room I sang, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy" and he sang back "A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?" I had the next line, "The words may sound queer and funny to your ear" and he took "A little bit jumbled and jivey." And then we sang together, "But mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."

We sat in silence together, and I realized how grateful I was. Grateful for the uninterrupted time I could spend with him. So very grateful for the chance to show him how much I loved him. I knew that when I had to leave him and go back to my life, I would have no regrets.

I finally went home and nine days later he passed away. In the following days I tried to remember that one night. My stepmother turned into the monster we always knew she could be. It got so ugly that I left right after the funeral. But as I started the long drive home, I smiled as I started to sing our song.

There have been ugly family issues that have cropped up since then, and I find myself struggling to believe that he really didn't mean to hurt his kids the way he did. For the most part I'm successful because I remember how much I loved him. He's no longer in pain, and he's with my mom who was the love of his life. My brother, sister and I are comforted that they are finally back in each other's arms again.

Re: Losing a Mom

Originally Posted by gagi;2927285;

Wow. I can't believe I've been a member for such a long time and never saw this thread. I hope you don't mind if I join in with my story about my mom and dad.

My mom died of cancer almost 20 years ago. She was sick for 7 weeks, and poof she was gone. She would have died sooner, but my father took another life insurance policy out on her so that we could survive after she left us. She had the date imprinted in her memory and died two days after that. I am still amazed at her sacrifices for us. I went to Six Flags on her last lucid day. I didn't know things were so bad, and she insisted that I go off with my friends for one fun day during a very sad summer. When I returned, she slipped into a coma. I always regretted that I wasn't with her that day. I never got to say goodbye. She got to spend precious time with my brother, sister, and father, but I missed out on it. To this day that makes me cry.

We barely survived the first few years. My father was lost without her. She had taken care of everything as far as the kids and house were concerned. That was when we learned how human my dad was. He just couldn't hold it together. He eventually remarried because he felt that would bring us all back together. Instead it made things much worse.

They both retired and moved hundreds of miles away. We never really got to see him, and he missed seeing his grandchildren grow. He died two years ago. I took a leave of absence from work to take care of him. He was hospitalized, but he really needed someone with him 24/7. His wife didn't like me so I was not allowed to stay in his house. I lived at a hotel for six weeks. My job didn't pay me so I almost lost everything. I don't think I have ever hit such a low point before.

But the time I spent with my dad was such a gift to me. All tension and hostility disappeared as we sat together day after day. I usually spent at least 12 hours sitting with him in his hospital room. When I first got there each day he didn't allow me to talk. You might find that strange, but it made total sense to me. My stepmother stopped in for an hour before I got there. She talked incessantly and drove him crazy. I had to wait awhile until he finally opened his eyes and smiled at me. We talked, I read to him, we prayed, and we kept each other company.

My most favorite memory happened very early one morning. I got a call from the hospital at 1:30 am that he had awakened and was scared to be alone. I was asked to come sit with him.

When I got there I turned the bedside chair so I was facing him. I was close enough to hold his hand. We sat for a long while without saying anything. Then we started to reminisce. He brought up a memory, and then I did. Finally we got to my favorite one. When I was about six, he tried to teach us a tongue-twister of a song. "Mares Eat Oats..." The words were really hard for me to learn, but I was determined. I made him sing it to me night after night until I got it right. In the stillnes of the hospital room I sang, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy" and he sang back "A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?" I had the next line, "The words may sound queer and funny to your ear" and he took "A little bit jumbled and jivey." And then we sang together, "But mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."

We sat in silence together, and I realized how grateful I was. Grateful for the uninterrupted time I could spend with him. So very grateful for the chance to show him how much I loved him. I knew that when I had to leave him and go back to my life, I would have no regrets.

I finally went home and nine days later he passed away. In the following days I tried to remember that one night. My stepmother turned into the monster we always knew she could be. It got so ugly that I left right after the funeral. But as I started the long drive home, I smiled as I started to sing our song.

There have been ugly family issues that have cropped up since then, and I find myself struggling to believe that he really didn't mean to hurt his kids the way he did. For the most part I'm successful because I remember how much I loved him. He's no longer in pain, and he's with my mom who was the love of his life. My brother, sister and I are comforted that they are finally back in each other's arms again.

What a beautiful and touching story. I'm so glad you posted it. And many hugs to you.
Don't feel too badly about not being with your mom. She sounds like a great mom that wanted you to have a little bit of cheer during a really bad time. And what parent wouldn't?

I'm glad you got to spend so much time with your dad at the end. I was with both my parents when they passed. Something I've always been grateful too and something that was really brought home to me on 9/11. That is my mom's birthday and 2001 was the first birthday after she died. I realized during that time that there were MANY families that had not gotten the chance to say "I love you" and "goodbye" that day and it made me realize how truly lucky I was. Ironically 9/11 is what set me on the path to finally getting over my grief for my mom and my dad who had passed 18 months earlier.

Treasure all your good memories and it sounds like you do. My grandmother used to sing that song to me. Thanks for triggering a wonderful memory of a very special lady in my life.

Re: Losing a Mom

Originally Posted by gagi;2927285;

Wow. I can't believe I've been a member for such a long time and never saw this thread. I hope you don't mind if I join in with my story about my mom and dad.

My mom died of cancer almost 20 years ago. She was sick for 7 weeks, and poof she was gone. She would have died sooner, but my father took another life insurance policy out on her so that we could survive after she left us. She had the date imprinted in her memory and died two days after that. I am still amazed at her sacrifices for us. I went to Six Flags on her last lucid day. I didn't know things were so bad, and she insisted that I go off with my friends for one fun day during a very sad summer. When I returned, she slipped into a coma. I always regretted that I wasn't with her that day. I never got to say goodbye. She got to spend precious time with my brother, sister, and father, but I missed out on it. To this day that makes me cry.

We barely survived the first few years. My father was lost without her. She had taken care of everything as far as the kids and house were concerned. That was when we learned how human my dad was. He just couldn't hold it together. He eventually remarried because he felt that would bring us all back together. Instead it made things much worse.

They both retired and moved hundreds of miles away. We never really got to see him, and he missed seeing his grandchildren grow. He died two years ago. I took a leave of absence from work to take care of him. He was hospitalized, but he really needed someone with him 24/7. His wife didn't like me so I was not allowed to stay in his house. I lived at a hotel for six weeks. My job didn't pay me so I almost lost everything. I don't think I have ever hit such a low point before.

But the time I spent with my dad was such a gift to me. All tension and hostility disappeared as we sat together day after day. I usually spent at least 12 hours sitting with him in his hospital room. When I first got there each day he didn't allow me to talk. You might find that strange, but it made total sense to me. My stepmother stopped in for an hour before I got there. She talked incessantly and drove him crazy. I had to wait awhile until he finally opened his eyes and smiled at me. We talked, I read to him, we prayed, and we kept each other company.

My most favorite memory happened very early one morning. I got a call from the hospital at 1:30 am that he had awakened and was scared to be alone. I was asked to come sit with him.

When I got there I turned the bedside chair so I was facing him. I was close enough to hold his hand. We sat for a long while without saying anything. Then we started to reminisce. He brought up a memory, and then I did. Finally we got to my favorite one. When I was about six, he tried to teach us a tongue-twister of a song. "Mares Eat Oats..." The words were really hard for me to learn, but I was determined. I made him sing it to me night after night until I got it right. In the stillnes of the hospital room I sang, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy" and he sang back "A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?" I had the next line, "The words may sound queer and funny to your ear" and he took "A little bit jumbled and jivey." And then we sang together, "But mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."

We sat in silence together, and I realized how grateful I was. Grateful for the uninterrupted time I could spend with him. So very grateful for the chance to show him how much I loved him. I knew that when I had to leave him and go back to my life, I would have no regrets.

I finally went home and nine days later he passed away. In the following days I tried to remember that one night. My stepmother turned into the monster we always knew she could be. It got so ugly that I left right after the funeral. But as I started the long drive home, I smiled as I started to sing our song.

There have been ugly family issues that have cropped up since then, and I find myself struggling to believe that he really didn't mean to hurt his kids the way he did. For the most part I'm successful because I remember how much I loved him. He's no longer in pain, and he's with my mom who was the love of his life. My brother, sister and I are comforted that they are finally back in each other's arms again.

What a beautiful story. It is great you got that time with your dad before he passed. Sorry you got saddled with such a step-monster, though.

Re: Losing a Mom

gaqi, thank you for sharing your beautiful story. I am so sorry for your losses, but I am glad that your sweet parents are together forever. I think the feelings of guilt are inevitable, regardless of whether you were there with your parents or not when they passed...But it sounds like your parents knew exactly how much you loved them...and that kind of love transcends actually being there the minute they pass.

Re: Losing a Mom

gagi what a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing with us. All the stories of what we've had to overcome with the deaths of our parents truly makes me thankful that I have everyone here and whenever I feel very sad, I think that you are all with me in my grief if even for a moment.

Re: Losing a Mom

gagi, I appreciate you sharing your story with us...it is a beautiful story and fitting tribute to a relationship that was able to mend. I'm so proud that you got to spend that quality time with your dad and that it brings comforting and good memories to mind...those good memories help to sustain us when those guilt/hurt/bad thoughts creep in occasionally.